


Dakota

by tikistitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1828921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tikistitch/pseuds/tikistitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel and Benny have teamed up and gotten into the “saving people, hunting things” business, along with a little help from some heavenly allies.  While investigating a series of bizarre murders in Dakota badlands, they stumble upon evidence of a restless Native American spirit, and have to call upon some old friends for assistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a post S9 AU, so spoilers up until the S9 finale. Also, I sort of wanted this to be a one shot, but it grew a little too big. I ought to have the rest up some time this week.

_Preamble: This story is set after the Season 9 finale. Dean has been cured of the Mark of Cain. I'm not going to say how: that's another story for another day. What you need to know is, as part of the rather complicated spell, Castiel returned to Purgatory and dragged Benny’s reluctant vampire ass back home. Now, somewhat to Dean's dismay, the unlikely duo has taken up hunting together._

 

“And another cantankerous spirit sent off on his merry way,” said Benny, giving Cas a friendly pat on the back. 

Cas, who was crouched at the edge of the grave staring at the burning bones, merely frowned. As he stood up, a restless wind stirred the embers, sending his long coat flapping in the breeze. “What killed him?”

Benny leaned over on his shovel, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. Vampires didn’t really sweat but, as the angel was coming to learn, in some ways Benny was still more human that he would ever be, with or without the sputtering teaspoon of grace still left in his body. 

Benny peered under the brim of his cap. “You’re thinkin’ it’s a _what_ , not a _who_ , angel?”

“That is exactly what I’m thinking, vampire.” 

“Maybe time to check in for a little heavenly ad-vice?” asked Benny, his rich southern tones placing the accent firmly on the first syllable of the last word.

Cas didn’t answer, but instead huffed. Benny inclined his head towards the parking lot and, hitching the shovel over one shoulder and whistling a piece from Peer Gynt Suite, the two entities made their way out of the human graveyard.

 

“Which Dakota are we in presently?” asked Cas. They were standing at the reception desk of the Crazy Wisdom Motor Inn in a town called Spirit Lake. There was a mounted moose head watching them over the desk.

“You boys are in _West_ Dakota,” the motel manager said with a grin, handing over a well-worn key. One of his front teeth was gold, and it flashed when he smiled. He wore his long, dark hair caught up in a copper clasp at the nape of his neck. The clasp was lettered with some intriguing symbols. 

“West Dakota?” asked Benny. “How many damned Dakotas you need?”

The golden-toothed grin widened. “Free air conditionin’ in the room.” Outside the window, dark clouds began to move in. 

“Can you recommend a place with good coffee?” asked Cas, gripping the key.

“You could do worse than the Kinikinik.”

“Kin-what? Can’t even pronounce it,” muttered Benny as Cas nodded to the manager and they departed the reception.

“You probably won’t be drinking the coffee anyway,” Cas reasoned as Benny let the door slam behind them. 

“I’ll drink your damn coffee. Shower’s what I need now though.”

Cas tossed him the room key. “I’ll go move the car around.”

“Good thing. I’ll go on ahead and put in a call to our best girl.”

A bit later, Cas shouldered his way into the room, clutching their bags and equipment. There was the sound of running water, and someone humming classical music. “He already hit the shower,” came a female voice.

“Yes, I can hear it,” grumbled Cas, setting the bags down on the twin beds. 

“Why do you hole up like this, anyway? It’s not as if your kind needs to sleep.”

Cas sat down on his bed, beside his luggage. “I feel … fatigue.” The dark circles under his eyes seemed especially prominent today. He sighed, and then, as if by force of will, straightened. “Did Benny inform you why we have summoned you here?”

The form of Pamela Barnes materialized on the twin bed opposite Cas. She was lying on her side, head propped up on one arm, fiddling with a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses. The sunglasses were real, as she was not. “Nope. He just lit a joss stick and hit the showers. You boys been digging in the dirt again?”

Cas regarded his own hands. They had formed callouses: he hadn’t wanted to spare grace on removing them. “Another restless spirit.”

“Oh, like me.”

“You are not restless, Pamela. Your soul was fated to rest in the fields of the Lord-“

“Yeah, yeah, if Ash hadn’t figured out a way to pop me back into the Veil.” 

The shower noises had shut off. The bathroom door swung open and a vampire ambled into the room, tucking a towel around his waist. “All yours, O Angel of Mud ‘n Dirt. Oh, hey,” Benny added, spotting the apparition on his bed. “Hello there, beautiful lady.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Chompers,” said Pamela, who didn’t move as Benny sat down beside her.

“How’s my favorite not-alive mama doin’?” asked Benny. 

“Wishing some of that southern charm would rub off on your partner,” Pamela sulked. 

Cas tried to steer the conversation back to business. “My partner and I are investigating a string of murders-“

“Now, we don’t know that they’re murders,” Benny put in.

Cas grimaced. “A string of _killings_. They appear to have some supernatural connection, at least given the corpses we have personally observed. They tend to be burnt in a particular way….” Cas trailed off.

“Oh, like eyes burnt outta their sockets?” Pamela snapped. “Yeah, I have some familiarity.” She glowered at Cas, and suddenly, the appearance of her eyes turned to shadows. 

Cas stumbled over his words. “I- As I’ve communicated before- I have deep regrets-“

“Yeah. Stow it, Feathers,” grumbled Pamela, who blinked out.

“Dangit, Auntie Cas,” said Benny. “You gone and annoyed her again.”

“I warned her not to observe my true form!” Castiel protested. He sighed, and put his head in his hands. “And … I didn’t mean to offend her,” he muttered. “I must be tired.” He started as he felt himself being yanked up by the collar. 

“Go!” said Benny, thrusting a fresh towel into his hands. “Get in the damned shower and scrape off a couple layers o’ grime. You won’t be no grouch no more. Well, prob’ly still a grouch, but less so.”

Cas’s glower intensified, but he didn’t resist. He doffed his outer layers of clothing, and fled into the bathroom. Bathing: another human chore it wasn’t worth wasting his diminishing grace on. Though showering wasn’t completely terrible. He had grown fond of the way the hot water warmed his body as it cascaded over him. It was a sort of a tonic to weariness, he supposed: now that he grew tired with dispiriting frequency. And this was a decent bathroom at least, relatively clean, with sufficient water pressure. He was in a generally improved mood when he stepped out of the shower into the steam-filled room.

And then he saw the figure sitting cross-legged on the counter, gazing at him.

“Dammit, Pamela,” he grumbled, snatching his towel from the rack and hastily draping it around his waist.

The ghost grinned maliciously. “Oh, as if I haven’t seen one of those before, hotshot.”

“We’ve talked about this. I do appreciate a certain measure of privacy.”

“And I used to appreciate seeing things. See how that works? Anyway, I got some news from the MIT guy upstairs.”

“You could have talked to Benny.” Castiel turned towards the sink and made a big fuss of taking out his toothpaste and toothbrush.

“He went out for supplies. And I’m tied to these, remember?” she asked, twirling the sunglasses.

Castiel’s reborn bad mood intensified. “Benny should have let me help with the … supplies.” Though the vampire had become quite adept at pilfering from hospital blood banks, Cas knew there was still a posse of hunters watching for him. 

“You know, your vessel is not bad to look at,” said Pamela, slipping the sunglasses on, but peering over them.

“So I’ve been told,” Cas muttered through toothpaste. “And … it's not really a vessel any more. It's me.”

“Then _your_ ass is amazing. No wonder Dean is always checking it out.”

Pamela won that one, as Cas quit brushing and turned to glare at her. He cursed under his breath. “What did you wish to report, Pamela?”

“I asked Ash about any stray angels that might have been wandering this way, and he couldn’t find any….”

“Then my theory was incorrect.”

“…but there’s a lot of mojo around these parts. Like something really powerful has just woken up, and it’s not in a good mood.” An eyebrow arched up. “You should be able to relate to that.”

Cas spat into the sink and turned around, leaning a hip on the counter. He considered this tidbit for a while. 

Pamela rolled her eyes, picked up a wash cloth, and dabbed at some toothpaste that was dribbling down his chin. 

“Can Ash be more specific?”

“No. But you might wanna contact the boys in the bunker. I’ve heard Sam is working on that energy tracker thingamabob on the old Men of Letters computer.”

Castiel bristled. “We do not require their help.”

“Of course you don’t.” Pamela folded the towel and placed it on a hook. “But their help might be, ya know, _helpful_.”

Cas turned back towards the sink. “Please ask Ash if he can pin down the power source.”

“You got it.” The sunglasses went back on, and, with a grin, Pamela winked out, seconds after grabbing Cas's towel from his waist. 

“Dammit!” But Cas was alone again, with only a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses setting on the counter, the dark lenses staring right through him.

 

“Might wanna get your pants back on, angel,” said Benny by way of greeting when he lumbered in the door some time later. He set a somewhat wrinkled paper bag featuring a cartoon picture of a smiling hamburger on the table between the beds.

Cas had changed into pajama pants and a well-worn AC/DC T-shirt, and was slouched back, clicking around the three-and-a-half available cable channels. “Why is that?” he inquired. He liked television.

“Word on the street is the coroner just got in a body. And it was still sizzlin'’ when they brang it in.” The vampire plopped down on his bunk and plunged a big paw into the canvas bag he had over his shoulder. He grinned as he withdrew a fresh pint of AB positive. “So down your groceries, and then strap on a tie.”

Cas rustled in the paper bag and withdrew a burger wrapped in greasy yellow waxed paper. He took a bite, and realized that he had been getting hungry.

“Extra artery-cloggers, just the way you like it,” chuckled Benny, who popped open the top of the IV bag and began to sip his hemoglobin the way you would a juice box.

“Thank you,” said Cas. One side effect of his fading grace was that food once again tasted good. “How did you find this out? The body?”

“Small town,” said the vampire between slurps. “Kids at the burger joint were chatty. Seems they go to high school with the vic's son.”

“During your absence, we had a visitation.” Cas glanced at the sunglasses that were now sitting on the bedside table. 

“And you were OK with our friendly ghost without me runnin’ interference for ya?”

Cas frowned into his burger. “Ash has pinpointed some supernatural activity in this area. Though it is not, as I had supposed, angelic in nature.”

“Well, that’s good news. No offense, but I didn’t much anticipate tanglin’ with another of your family. You critters do tend to get your feathers ruffled.”

Cas nodded. It was a fair comment. They consumed their respective meals in silence for a moment. “Do you regret it when you don’t see her?”

“Pam?” Benny had slurped through his pint and was carefully wrapping it up inside another bag.

“Yes.”

The vampire shrugged. “We kid around, me an’ the ghost lady. You know. Nothin’ ever gonna come of it, is there? Her up there, and me fated to go back to … you know.”

“Fate is not absolute. We averted the apocalypse, remember?”

“That you did. That you did.” Benny smiled ruefully. “Wipe your chin and get suited up, angel. You’re better at this FBI playactin’ stuff than I’ll ever be.”

 

“I’m glad you’re here, Agents. Maybe you can explain what happened to Mr. Teague,” said Dr. Parmeter, the local coroner. Even in his present, nearly human state, Cas could still smell the body. It was unpleasant, and unlike the usual rotting flesh smell: it reminded him more of a barbeque. The doctor pulled back a sheet to reveal the charred corpse that lay on the gurney. Cas leaned in closer: as the other body they’d seen just the other day, it resembled an angel kill. The eyes had been burned out, leaving only two ghastly holes in the face. 

“Playin’ too near a power line?” inquired Benny.

The coroner shook his head. “I don’t think so, Agent Poe. Mr. Teague was found nowhere near any power lines.”

“Lightnin’ storm?”

“The sky was clear as a bell all day long.”

“Accordin' to the sheriff, this one lived right next door to the vic you brought in the other day.”

The coroner mulled this over. “Well, we're country folk, so we're pretty spread out. But Mr. Teague and Mr. Hanniger were neighbors. Their property adjoined.”

“Good neighbors, or otherwise?”

“I've never heard of any disputes. And their boys are good friends.”

Cas had been moving around the body, shifting the sheet. “Do you have gloves?” Parmeter handed over a box of latex gloves, and Cas put one on. He held up the corpse’s hand. “What’s this, underneath the fingernails?”

The three men all leaned over, squinting at the rough hand. “Paint of some kind? I could get a sample,” offered the coroner.

Benny was frowning. “Paint? Was Hanniger a painter?”

“No, farmer. Family farm. His folk have been in this town maybe since it was founded. They were well liked, by just about everyone.”

“Just about everyone?” wondered Cas.

The coroner was checking his watch. “Well, I got some place I need to be. I’ll get that material under the fingernails analyzed for you.”

Cas nodded to Benny. They were obviously being ushered out. They turned to leave.

The coroner squinted through his thick glasses. “By the way, Agent Lovecraft: before you go, I’m sorry but I have to ask, are you any relation?”

Cas turned, looking the man over. “To the horror author of the early 20th century? No, not as far as I can determine.”

“I’m a big fan,” Parmeter gushed.

“His speculative fiction works were influential, tainted by an uncomfortable strain of racism,” dead-panned Cas.

“Good reads,” said Parmeter, who didn’t seem to register the insult.

Benny grabbed Cas by the shoulder and steered his partner outside. “Why’d you take ol’ HP’s name if you don’t even like him?” he whispered as they headed out through the parking lot to Cas’s Lincoln Continental.

“The Winchesters generally take the names of figures in popular music as pseudonyms. The pop cultural knowledge Metatron granted me primarily had to do with literature however.”

“Maybe you should try poets next time.”

“More to the point,” Cas said as he started the car, “he seemed oblivious to Lovecraft’s virulently racist views.”

Benny chuckled. “Maybe he just read for the tentacle parts. That stuff's got some fans, you know.”

Cas seemed to consider this carefully for a while as he backed the long car out of the space. “Where to now?”

“I’d say we grab a drink. Why not head to that weird-soundin’ place the hotel man liked?”

 

“You the one protestin' against racism. I'd point to this as a remedy,” said Benny, tipping back a long-neck.

“How is an imaginary concoction of artificial blood product relevant to the question of racial prejudice?” asked Cas, who sipped at his own beer. He was wary of alcohol. He appreciated the taste, but was much more susceptible to intoxication in his present, weakened state. But he and Benny had been sitting there talking for a while, and he had collected an empty bottle or two. 

“It lets me set in a bar and enjoy a glass of my favorite with my fellow man,” Benny explained.

“You're not a man. Not any more.”

“That's a matter of opinion.”

“Besides, that show seems aimed more towards titillation than expression of social movements.”

“I don't mind me a little skin now and then. That Sooki Stackhouse is one cute little gal.”

“You find her attractive?”

“Hey, we're not all like you, fixating on one individual.”

Cas grimaced, and fiddled with his bar napkin. He picked it up. “Do you see this?”

“Yeah, Knock-Knee, or whatever the hell the name of this bar.”

Cas pointed underneath. “These symbols. I noticed the motel manager had similar symbology impressed on his jewelry.”

Benny grabbed the napkin and gave it a gander. “I'd suspect what you got here is some Indian language. Or I mean, Native.”

“I wonder what they signify?”

Benny chuckled into his beer. “Probably, 'Fuck off, ya White assholes.' We sure didn’t do the people here no favors.”

Cas was already signaling the bartender. “Pardon me. I was wondering about the designs on your napkins.”

The bartender, a dark-haired gentleman who looked like he'd been there since the building was originally constructed, nodded. “Lakota. My people,” he said. He pulled out a fresh napkin and pointed a nicotine stained finger. “Those were symbols on our war paint.”

“War paint,” Cas muttered. 

The bartender pointed to the napkin. “That hand print? Means combat.” The finger moved. “That's rain.”

“What about the jaggedy one?” asked Benny.

“Lightning. Means power.”

Cas glanced at Benny, who raised an eyebrow.

“Thanks,” said Cas as the bartender moved off. Cas grabbed his cell phone from a pocket and read his new text message. 

He lobbed it to Benny, who scanned the message and broke into a grin. “She's pissed I forgot the sunglasses again,” said the vampire with a fond grin.

“Tell her we're sorry,” said Castiel. Despite her considerable psychic powers, Pamela required proximity to her sunglasses in order to manifest as a spirit on earth, and tended to get frosty when they were left behind. Fortunately for her, Benny also tended to forget his cell phone, which the wily ghost had figured out how to use. Fortunately for Benny, her voice didn't carry, so she was confined to expressing her unhappiness through text messages.

“Huh. She's got a message for us from Ash upstairs. Says that the energy is from something pretty old.”

“How old?”

“He reckons it's in the thousands of years.”

Cas was still holding the napkin. “Something of Native American origin, perhaps?” 

Benny typed in the message. “She says yeah, that would work.” He shut the phone and handed it back to Castiel. “Trip to the liberry, maybe?”

“Yes. I am not so familiar with Paleoamerican mythology.”

 

The following day, the partners split up. Benny went to chat with some potential witnesses and, as Cas was still not the best at the whole “talking to people” part, he commandeered a corner of the local library and proceeded to take in as much as he could of local history, particularly tales about indigenous gods and spirits.

Benny ambled by the small fort of books Cas had constructed for himself that afternoon. “Thought you might like to ride along to chat with Teague's family. It's a bit of a ways outta town. I stopped by the drive in, got you some grub waiting in the car.”

As if on cue, Cas's stomach rumbled. He glared at it, annoyed, as it was yet another reminder of his fading grace. 

“Aw, don't be a grouch, angel. Feedin' you is a lot less fuss than feedin' me!”

Cas shrugged into his coat and, after a stop at the desk to check out what looked like half of the library, he deposited the pile of dusty volumes in back of the car, and they were on their way out of town. Benny drove, while Cas quickly polished off his cheeseburger and fries. When there was nothing left, he dipped his finger into the bottom of the French fry box and licked off the salt.

“Could super size you next time, angel,” Benny offered.

“Don't bother,” sighed Cas, tossing the greasy wrappers back into the paper bag with a pang of regret. 

“You get the pie?”

“The what?”

“Got you one of those pies. You know, the kind you can eat with one hand?”

Cas dug into the bottom of the bag. The item he extracted didn't much resemble a pie, but it definitely said “pie” on the cardboard container. He opened the box and took a tentative bite. “Thank you,” he smacked as he chewed. 

“Figured you'd be another fan.”

“What have you found out so far?”

Benny shook his head in frustration. “I ask you, angel, is there a single case, in all of human history, where an actual bad man has died?”

“I would think so, vampire.”

“Not accordin' to anyone you ever interview. It's always the same: family man, quiet, no enemies, church-goin', never sad 'boo' to no one.”

“It does strengthen the case for a supernatural entity's involvement, however. Their moral system is often dissimilar to ours.”

“How 'bout you?”

Cas wiped his hands on some paper napkins and pointed to his notes. “I've pinpointed several figures from Lakota mythology that I think might be germane to the case. Oh, is that the turn-off?”

Benny wrenched the car into a too-tight right turn. “Dammit,” he muttered, as the tires wrenched noisily across gravel. He stopped the car and pulled the parking brake. “Lemme make sure I didn't get us a flat tire.” They both got out and walked around. “Looks OK from this side!” he called.

“I don't see any damage. By the way, this person is fairly proprietary,” said Cas. He pointed, and Benny came around the car to regard the hand-written “No trespassing” sign. It was a bit verbose, and specifically inveighed against the US government's claims to the property.

“Huh. Well, maybe this one had a bit of a bark to him?” said Benny.

There were more signs as they drove towards the farmhouse. “FBI,” Benny told the surly teenager who greeted them on the front porch. “We were supposed to talk with your Mama, I think?”

The boy, who had a coil of rope around his shoulder, yelled “Mom!” and then sulked off into a rattletrap pickup. He took off, the truck's engine protesting, raising dust along the roadway.

“Mrs. Teague?” asked Benny as a middle aged woman came to greet them. He offered his badge, and she managed a wan smile in return. “Special Agents Poe and Lovecraft, Ma'am.”

“I already told the other policemen all I know,” she told them.

“We're thinking your husband's untimely demise may have been part of a pattern, Ma'am. We sure would appreciate a few moments of your time, if'n you have some to spare.”

Cas remained silent as she invited the purported FBI agents to come inside. The genial vampire, Cas grudgingly admitted, had a way with people he supposed he would never have. They were soon seated and offered not only tall glasses of sweetened iced tea, but also homemade ginger snaps. Cas probably put away too many of the cookies, even though he'd just eaten lunch. At any rate, it gave him a motivation to excuse himself part way through the interview, to use the bathroom. So far the conversation was going exactly as Benny had described: the latest victim, Mr. Teague, had been a fine, upstanding member of the community, with no enemies to speak of. 

Cas paused as he returned from the bathroom, scanning some flyers that were poking out of a bookcase in the hallway. They featured photos that appeared to have been taken inside some underground caverns, under the heading,“Visit a subterranean world of mystery and wonder.” He studied them, and then, grabbing a couple, headed back to the living room.

Benny stood up, as did the vic’s wife. “We was just finishin’ up here,” said Benny.

“Mrs. Teague,” said Cas, holding out a flyer. “Can you tell me anything about this?”

She shook her head. “Oh, there’s some caves on the property. Elias discovered them, years ago, when he was just a boy. He and the boys would go out there sometimes, to explore.”

Benny took the paper from Cas and read it over. “So, he planned to bring in tourists?”

Mrs. Teague rolled her eyes. “He’s been exploring those caves for twenty years. He and his brother, and Josiah Hanniger from next door. They run underneath his farm as well. It’s all a pipe dream. But we all have dreams, don’t we?” She smiled wistfully. Cas and Benny nodded, and then said their goodbyes.

Benny lobbed the car keys to Cas as they walked off the porch. “Did I miss anything?” Cas asked.

“Like I said, accordin’ to his wife, Teague was a regular saint.” Benny was still studying the flyers as Cas started the car. “What do you make of the underground world of mystery?”

“I was just thinking, I read references to a cave system in this area being used as a sacred burial ground for certain indigenous tribes,” said Cas. They pondered this for a moment. 

“That kid we saw had a rope,” said Benny.

“Did you see which way he went?”

Benny pointed, and Cas directed the Lincoln off onto a side road that lead into the foothills. They stopped at a dead end. The old pickup was parked there, as well as another battered car that had seen better days, but there was no sign of the kid.

There was the sound of rushing wind nearby. They followed a dusty path to an opening that seemed carved out underneath some rocks. It was just big enough for a man to push through. Cas crouched beside it and cocked his head. The wind howled through the cave mouth. 

“Dark in there,” said Cas.

“My kind don't mind the dark,” chuckled Benny.

Cas pulled out a small flashlight and ducked inside. The cave widened inside, although he had to duck down, as the roof was low. A trickle of water ran along the floor. After a few meters, it opened into a large cavern. He ran the flashlight around the room. There were spectacular formations everywhere around, and the noise of the winds. Benny edged up behind him. “Is that the way down?”

Someone had carved some very rough stone steps into the cave floor, and fixed ropes as a kind of improvised hand rail. It was still slippery and difficult, but they made their way to the bottom. 

There were a few permanent lights jury-rigged around the cavern, so they turned off their flashlights. The cave really could have been described as a world of wonder. Wind and water had wrought incredible formations. Long white stalactites cascaded down from the ceiling, and limestone stalagmites graced up to meet them. There were also stone ruffles, thin and delicate as lace, and a latticework that stretched across patches of the ceiling.

“Ain't bad down here,” said Benny, enjoying the view.

“Stop right there!”

Cas and Benny rolled their eyes at one another and slowly turned around to face the surly teen, who now, along with another boy, was confronting them. Both of the kids were holding shotguns.

“Might wanna lower that, sonny,” offered Benny. “Could do some damage to your pretty cave here.”

“You're trespassing!” 

“Didn't catch your name, son,” said Benny offering a smile. “We just talked to your mama up there. Askin' about your daddy.”

“I'm Aaron Teague. You government people killed my dad! I know you did. They killed both our dads.”

“So you are Mr. Hanniger's son?” Cas asked the other gunman.

The other kid, a redhead who looked a little younger and a little less committed than the Teague boy, pointed his weapon towards the ground. “Yeah. Cody. I'm Cody Hanniger.”

“And this is our rightful property!” added Aaron.

“No arguments there, Aaron,” said Benny, now holding up his large hands. He slowly and carefully opened up his jacket and pulled out a flyer and showed it to the boys. “We're just bein' tourists. Pictures don’t do it justice, by the way.”

He held the pamphlet out to the Teague boy, glancing first at Cas. Aaron reached for it, and in a flash, was disarmed and down on the floor of the cave, Cas with a knee in his back. “I wouldn't do that, if I were you,” Benny told Cody, who was gripping his weapon. “On the ground.”

Cody only considered this for a second of two, and then his shotgun was down on the cave floor, where Benny quickly grabbed it and pulled out the shells. “We got no quarrel with you boys. But pullin' a firearm on a government agent ain't the brightest of ideas.”

“You're US government!” shouted Aaron, who Cas was carefully helping to his feet, while keeping his arms wrested in back. “You're trying to take our property.”

“Why do you think that?” Benny asked Cody.

“I guess it’s near some Injun burial ground?” the redhead stammered.

“Whiney bitches! Always demanding special rights,” Aaron spat.

“My dad found it a few weeks back,” said Cody, who wiped a tear. “I mean, before he died. There’s the area, they say it’s got … skeletons.”

“You’ve seen ‘em?” asked Benny.

Cody shook his head. “No sir.”

“He’s just scared,” Aaron taunted.

“I’m not scared!” Cody shot back. “But Mr. Teague said we should keep quiet about it, that the government would come.”

“This appears to be an extensive network of caves,” said Cas. “If you'd like to convert this area a tourist facility, why not just exploit the part that doesn't impact on sacred ground?”

“Because it's ours,” Aaron fussed. “We found it! We explored it.”

“You know, it might make sense,” said Cody, running a hand through his reddish hair. “I mean, that’s what my dad wanted to do.”

“It's our sacred property rights, Cody!” insisted Aaron.

“Hey hey!” said Benny, raising his hands, his voice echoing through the cavern. “We ain't here to have a constitutional debate. We just wanna suss out who killed your daddies.”

“You and your fathers were exploring the caves?” asked Cas.

“Yeah. And my uncle Josiah,” Aaron told them.

“Then it appears there was some connection in their deaths,” said Cas.

“You boys might wanna hold off on your spelunkin' 'til we get this figured out,” Benny warned.

“Spel-whating?” asked Cody.

 

Cas's phone started beeping the moment they were back out of the cave. They had left the boys down there, after relieving them of their firearms, and with strict instructions to steer clear of the burial ground. Cas tossed the car keys to Benny, and then listened to his messages as the vampire started the car. “That was the coroner. The tests came back from the material under Mr. Teague's fingernails.”

“And?” asked Benny.

“It is a kind of paint: face paint.”

Benny got comfortable in the driver’s seat as the car bumped over the dirt road. “No kiddin'? You mean like maybe – war paint?”

They continued in silence for a moment. Cas unhooked his seat belt and rummaged for a time in the pile of library books he had in the back seat. He finally grabbed one and sat back down, flipping through it.

“You think our vics got in trouble with some kinda spirit for disturbin' the burial ground?” Benny finally commented.

“Yes. According to Mrs. Teague, they had been exploring the caves for decades with nothing untoward. This trouble started recently.” He quietly flipped through a few more pages, finally putting his finger in the book. “This one. There is a figure from Native American mythology that fits the profile,” said Cas. “Heyoka.”

“Don't sound familiar.”

“He's a sacred clown spirit, but in addition, controlled thunder and lightning.” 

“Huh. Burns and face paint. That could be our guy.”

“I'll read more when we return.” Cas glanced down at his muddy trousers, which had gotten wet when he’d tackled the Teague boy. “And attempt to locate a laundromat.”

 

As it turned out, Cas needed to drive all the way to the next town over to find a coin laundromat. He spent the morning dressed in ragged jeans and an even more ragged Metallica T shirt, with the remainder of his clothes chugging around in a washing machine, and his nose in a book of Native American lore. He didn't return to Spirit Lake until evening. He pushed his way into his and Benny's motel room, dropping the canvas bag of clean laundry by the door.

And then he stopped short.

Sam Winchester looked up from his laptop, breaking into a big, bright smile. “Hey, Cas!” As the angel remained standing dumbly by the door, the big man extracted himself from the too-small table and chair and ambled over. Cas found himself enveloped inside a large, warm hug. 

“How ya doin'?” asked Sam, breaking the embrace by pounding heartily on Cas's back with a ham-sized hand.

Cas finally found his voice. “I am well, thank you. I didn't expect to see you, Sam.”

“Benny called, and we came.”

The vampire was slouched on his bed sipping from a bag of A positive. “Thought a Winchester or two might be useful, given what we're dealin' with.”

Sam shrugged his large shoulders. “Turns out we were in the neighborhood, so we took a detour. Though I'm not exactly psyched about hunting some killer clown god.” He laughed and moved across the room and somehow folded his tall frame back into the chair. 

Cas glanced from Sam to Benny. “Where is he?”

Benny and Sam exchanged a look. “Went to that Knick Knack Paddywack bar,” Benny offered. “I offered him a drink, but he didn't wanna share,” he joked, holding up his blood bag.

And Castiel was gone, letting the door slam shut behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I guess that last chapter wasn't Destiel-y enough for the Destiel comm, since it got rejected. Sorries if any of you feel you read it under false pretenses. This chapter oughta be Destiel-ier. I promise.

Castiel had driven halfway to the Kinikinik before he even realized where he was going. Grim-faced, he slipped the Lincoln into a parking space beside a very familiar black car and entered the tavern.

The place smelled of stale beer. A song by the country and western singer, Patsy Cline, was playing on the jukebox. She sang of walking for miles along a highway. 

“Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.” 

The hunter had taken a seat at a booth. Cas slipped in opposite him, and signaled to the barmaid. They were silent for a moment. After a time, the girl returned and handed Cas a beer, and he drank.

“That my Metallica shirt?” inquired Dean, gesturing with his beer bottle.

Cas looked down. He nodded.

“I’ve been talking to Benny. You've done some good work,” said Dean. “On the case, I mean.”

“Pamela has been most helpful.”

“No, seriously Cas, I'm impressed. I know I wasn't exactly cheering you on when you originally said you wanted to hunt, but....”

“And yet you've arrived to intervene.”

Dean's light green eyes opened wide. “Cas, be reasonable. If you're right-”

“I'm right”

“...Then, this is a fucking thunder god who's also a trickster!”

His eyes narrowed to dark slits, Cas was as frosty as his beer. “My partner and I are fully capable of completing the investigation on our own.”

“But isn't it good to have help?”

“I don't recall requesting your help on my job.”

“Why are you being so fucking pig-headed?”

“Perhaps I learned it from you.”

Dean scowled and took a long pull of his beer. He glanced away. “Gonna play some pool,” he muttered, rising from the table. As the bar was nearly empty, there was no one else playing. He sauntered over to the pool table, Cas trailing behind him, and shrugged out of his jacket, which he hung on a hook. He rolled up his sleeves, and then leaned over the table, using his forearms to gather the scattered balls. 

“Would you like to play?” Castiel asked. 

Dean looked up from where he was racking the balls, a skeptical expression playing over his features. “Have you ever even played pool, Cas?”

The angel shrugged. “I am aware of the rules, if that's what you're asking.”

“No, but have you actually _played_?”

“It's just physics.”

Dean chuckled, in a manner Castiel had come to understand was slightly derisive. Then he was grinding chalk into the end of a pool cue. “All right. Have it your way. So. Care to make this interesting?”

“Is competing in a game of skill not already sufficiently interesting?” Dean cocked his head, so Castiel added, “What would you like to wager, Dean?”

“I got fifty bucks.”

Castiel dug into his pocket and pulled out a wad of crumpled bills. He frowned and picked through them. 

“A little short?”

“No.” With a determined look, Cas shoved the cash back into his pocket. “But this is the wager I propose: if I win, you'll take your brother, get in the car, and drive out of town.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, but then quickly recovered. “OK. And _when_ I win, we'll take the lead on the case, and no back-talk from former angels.”

Castiel nodded. Dean bent over the table, and in an impossibly smooth gesture, broke the racked balls. 

Unfortunately, for Cas, his combined knowledge of physics and the classic film, _Cool Hand Luke_ did not put him in as good stead as he had wished against Dean Winchester. He made a decent showing of it, but after most of the table had been cleared, found himself losing.

“That's not how you do it,” said Dean, who had begun to interject unwanted comments regarding Cas's playing.

“If you'd please Dean, I am attempting to concentrate.”

Dean pantomimed using the cue. “You don't wanna hit it fast, you wanna go long.”

“Dean: Shut. Up.” 

Dean chuckled as Cas lined up his shot. He was stripes, and needed to pull off a bank shot around a solid ball. He was staring at the pool table's green felt surface with such intensity that he didn't notice when Dean set down his beer and came up behind him. He jumped when he felt Dean's hands sliding over his. 

“No, no,” said Dean, as his body pressed in against Cas's back. “Pull back more. Like this.” 

Cas tensed.

“Cas! You gotta relax. I'm trying to help here, buddy.”

“I don't need your help,” Cas insisted, although neither did he didn't try to break free of Dean's light grasp.

“C'mon. Just relax.” Dean leaned in a little more, his mouth just a small distance from Cas's ear. “Don't worry, Cas. I got ya,” he murmured.

Cas exhaled, and let himself mold into the curve of Dean's body. 

Dean shifted his weight slightly. Cas could smell the beer on his breath, felt Dean's chest pressing on his back. Dean gently pulled his arm back, and then with a fluid motion, together, they thrust the cue stick. As Cas stood, holding his breath, Dean still wrapped around him, the white ball banked and clicked into Cas's stripe, which then vanished down a pocket.

He glanced at Dean, whose eyes lingered on the table. His face was very near. Dean met his eyes, his lips curling into a small smile. And then Dean did that thing where he glanced down, just for a second, at Cas's mouth. 

Cas licked his lips.

“Hey, no flirtin' over there!”

Dean and Cas broke apart in an instant as Benny and Sam walked in, both wearing big grins.

“Oh, so you two are getting along now?” taunted Dean.

“The moose and me, we buried the hatchet,” said Benny, who hopped up onto a bar stool. He was wearing a pair of Ray Ban sunglasses on top of his head.

Cas attempted another shot, but, in his rattled state, muffed it. Smiling like the cat about to eat the canary, Dean grabbed his stick while Cas stepped back, fuming. Cas grabbed his beer and took a rather large gulp. And then he felt a pressure at his back. It was like when Dean had crept up behind him, only softer. As Dean lined up his next shot, small hand curled around Cas’s waist, gently pulling up the hem of his T shirt, while another slid across his chest. 

“It’s all right, gorgeous,” came a soft voice in his ear. “You'll get him next time.”

Dean glanced up at exactly the wrong time. The cue stick cracked, and a ball hopped up into the air, bouncing right off the table.

“Dammit!” said Dean, just as Pamela’s ghost stepped back from Cas, twirling the sunglasses around a finger. 

“Feeling distracted, honey?” asked Pamela, who made her manifestation hop up and sit on a pool table. 

Benny was patting Sam on the back, as the younger Winchester was currently choking on his beer.

“Don’t do that!” Dean told Pamela.

“He’s not your property,” said Pamela. “I mean, unless he is.”

Cas’s cell chose that moment to ring. _“Sorry to bother you on a Sunday, Agent Lovecraft,” _the local sheriff began.__

__Cas listened for a moment. “The matter seems urgent,” he told Benny. “I suggest we proceed directly to the sheriff’s office.”_ _

__“Let’s head out,” said Benny. Sam, who had finally stopped choking, stood up to go._ _

__Dean remained where he was, holding his pool cue. “Us too?” he asked Cas. They stared at each other for a moment, until finally Cas nodded curtly. Sam shot his brother a confused look, but Dean merely brushed past him, digging his car keys out of his pocket._ _

__

__“There’s more of you now?” asked Sheriff Forester, a pleasant, grey-haired man who bore more than a passing resemblance to the TV character, Andy Griffith._ _

__“Agents Styles and Payne are from the Bureau of Indian Affairs,” Cas deadpanned, nodding at Sam and Dean, the latter of whom shot Cas a very annoyed glance, which Cas very much enjoyed. “I contacted them when it became apparent that a sacred Native American site was potentially involved.”_ _

__The sheriff escorted them to a room where Hanniger boy was seated. The redhead looked even smaller and younger than when Cas and Benny had encountered him inside the cave. “Now, Cody,” said the sheriff, “you go tell these agents what you just told me.”_ _

__The boy hesitated, staring around at the large group of large men who had suddenly crowded into the room. He bit his lip, and Cas considered telling Sam and Dean to go out for a walk. Hopefully, a long walk._ _

__Benny crouched down so he was at eye level with the boy. “Were you out explorin’ the caves again with your friend?” he prompted, keeping his voice soft._ _

__Cody nodded. “And Aaron’s uncle came with us too. I told them to stay away from the Injun part, but they wouldn’t listen. Anyways, while we were down there the wind started howlin’ really loud. And I thought I saw something!”_ _

__“Someone else got down there?” asked Benny._ _

__“I don’t think he was human! His face was all white. But Aaron and Uncle Jesse wouldn’t believe me.” Benny shot a significant glance back at Cas._ _

__“Were you the only one who saw him, Cody?” asked Sam._ _

__“Yeah, but he was definitely there. But it was getting hard to hear each other, the wind was so loud, so we decided to call it quits. I climbed up first. Aaron and Uncle Josiah were supposed to be right behind me, but I didn’t see them. I shouted and shouted, but I only heard the wind. And then I climbed on out of the cave and came her to talk to the Sheriff.”_ _

__“That was a good decision, Cody,” the sheriff told him._ _

__Benny straightened. His knees cracked. He glanced at Cas, who nodded almost imperceptibly. “Sound like we might mosey out there, make an assessment of the situation.”_ _

__“You boys need my help?” asked the sheriff._ _

__“We’ll handle it from here,” said Cas, who, with a quick nod towards Cody, turned and strode out. Dean was next out the door, hot on Cas's heels._ _

__“Be careful,” the sheriff called after them. “There’s supposed to be a storm comin’ this afternoon.”_ _

__The group found themselves the parking lot beneath darkening skies. Dean stood beside the Impala, impatiently jangling his keys._ _

__“Look, I've been checking into the background on our vics-” said Sam._ _

__But Dean cut him off. “You can fill me in on the way, Sammy.”_ _

__“No. Let’s hear what Sam has to say first,” said Cas, which earned a sharp look from Dean._ _

__Sam glanced between Cas and Dean, and then with a frustrated huff, reached into his shoulder bag and grabbed his laptop, which he set on the trunk of the Impala. “First off, wind caves like the one on the farm are windy because of a pressure differential from the surface atmosphere.”_ _

__“In English?” snapped Dean._ _

__“There is an imbalance in air pressure between the surface and the cave,” Cas crisply informed him._ _

__Sam was nodding. “Yeah. When there’s high pressure out here, the air pushes into the cave, and when there’s low pressure….”_ _

__“As when the barometer is falling prior to the incoming storm system,” Cas interjected as he looked towards the threatening sky._ _

__“The wind blows out. So, long story short, the high wind the kid was talking about might be totally natural.”_ _

__“No spook,” said Dean. “I just think you don’t wanna confront a ghost clown, Sam. What else?”_ _

__Sam was madly typing away on his laptop. “That’s the other thing. Get this: I was checking into priors on our latest vic, Teague?”_ _

__“He didn’t have any prior convictions, Sam,” Cas assured him. “We researched this fairly thoroughly.”_ _

__“No, but turns out both Elias Teague and his brother, Josiah, were members of an organization called Armed Freedom Patriot Militia.”_ _

__Benny tilted his head. “That don’t sound too friendly.”_ _

__Sam had opened a folder, and files popped up everywhere on his desktop. “This one takes the cake. It’s on the Southern Poverty Law watch list. For one thing, they don’t believe the current US government is legitimate. Basically, they buy into pretty much every nutjob theory out there: the president is a Muslim terrorist, 9-11 was a conspiracy….”_ _

__“So they’re a little eccentric,” Dean concluded._ _

__“The main thing is, they believe in armed resistance. If the uncle is down there, he’s definitely carrying, and I'm pretty sure he won't be amused by agents of the US government barging in on him.”_ _

__“So what you’re saying is we got more to worry about than … what’s the spirit we’re chasing, Cas?”_ _

__“Heyoka. The Thunder Dreamer.”_ _

__“Would’ve made a good name for an eighties hair band,” said Dean, which earned a confused look from Castiel. “So, enough of this committee meeting, Commander?” he asked Cas, with a mock salute. Cas appeared ready to stab someone with an angel blade._ _

__“Do you folks have any rope?” Benny asked Sam. “I know the boys had a climbin' rope.”_ _

__“We _had_ rope,” Dean allowed._ _

__“Used it up in that case…” said Sam._ _

__“Yeah, that case.” Dean shook his head and both Winchester rolled their eyes._ _

__“Might do us some good to stop by the local dry goods emporium on the way out to the Teague’s place,” Benny suggested._ _

__Sam was rubbing his chin. “Yeah, if we’re gonna be grubbing around in a cave. And maybe pick up some fresh batteries for the flashlights while we’re at it….”_ _

__“Are we gonna get there some time this year or what?” barked Dean. “I know we’re supposed to be playing US government agents, but come on, Sammy!”_ _

__“Hey, I’ve got an idea, Mr. Attention Deficit Disorder,” Sam told Dean. “Why don’t you go charging on ahead with Cas, and I’ll stop by and buy some rope and other sensible stuff, so I can come rescue you when you get your dumb ass stuck down in a fucking cave.”_ _

__“You don't even know where this place is!” Dean protested._ _

__“I do,” said Benny. “I'll ride along with your little brother, Dean. Y’all might wanna take our friendly ghost along though,” he added, taking the sunglasses from his chest pocket and then handing them to Cas, who hung them from the collar of his shirt._ _

__Sam smiled smugly and held out his hand for the Impala's keys. Dean grunted and tossed them over to him, and then, muttering under his breath, stomped over to the Lincoln, where he literally bumped into Cas standing by the driver’s side door._ _

__“You want me to drive?” asked Dean, though it was not really a question._ _

__“No,” Cas said flatly. As if to emphasize this, he reached up a hand caught the keys Benny tossed over to him without taking his eyes off Dean. He then shouldered his way past Dean into the driver's seat. Cursing, Dean hastened around to the other side, where, as Benny and Sam shared a mocking laugh, Cas started up the Continental and nearly took off without him._ _

__

__Dean and Cas drove in a charged kind of silence for a few miles. Cas wrestled down his annoyance and aimed his full concentration on the road ahead. Finally, Dean settled back into the seat. “All right, I want a download,” he said. “What do we know about this ‘Hey-You’ spirit?”_ _

__“Heyoka is a clown spirit,” Cas informed him._ _

__“So, glitter and funny noses? Honking horns?” He knew better, of course. He was trying, in his clumsy Winchester way, to somewhat defuse the situation._ _

__“Apparently, these figures were revered in Lakota society. They were known for imparting so-called, 'crazy wisdom.'”_ _

__“Crazy wisdom?”_ _

__“They would act in a contrary manner, similar to some humans I know.” It slipped out, but Cas found he didn't regret it._ _

__Dean actually cracked a smile. “You’ve gotten snarky, you know?”_ _

__“Thank you, Dean.” Cas too settled back in his seat, his mind poring over the sources he had read. “For example, the Heyoka would wear their clothing inside-out, or shiver and ask for a blanket during the hot days of summertime, or complain that they had full stomachs during times of famine.”_ _

__“Oh, so Bizarro World.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“I thought you were the pop culture expert now? Bizarro Superman? From the comic books.”_ _

__Cas mused on this for a moment, but it didn't ring a bell. “Evidently, Metatron did not care for sequential art.”_ _

__“Oh. He was a douche.”_ _

__“Yes. He was a douche.”_ _

__Dean chuckled, and even Cas managed a small smile. Dean's eyes trailed down to the sunglasses hanging on Cas’s T shirt for a moment. “So, uh. You guys have gotten … closer … to Pamela?”_ _

__Cas nodded. “She and Benny have developed a certain mutual affection.”_ _

__“Benny?”_ _

__Dean had sounded surprised. And relieved? It was odd. “Yes.”_ _

__“Seriously? Huh, Benny and Pamela?”_ _

__“Yes. It … pains me,” Cas admitted. “As you know, he is an abomination. As such, he expects his soul to travel back to Purgatory at the end of his existence.”_ _

__“Look, we’ll figure it out, OK? We got rid of the Mark. Maybe we can find a cure, or something like that?”_ _

__It was in character: Dean the mechanic. All you needed were some parts and some spare time, and all could be fixed, set right, made shiny and new._ _

__“We rid you of the Mark at great cost,” Cas reminded him._ _

__“Well, yeah, but we did it, right? Team Free Will. And by the way, I owe you big. For Benny.”_ _

__“You owe me nothing, Dean.”_ _

__“Well, sure, but-“_ _

__“I lost the game of rock-paper-scissors, fair and square, as you would put it.” It was simpler than pool. Especially as Dean inevitably chose scissors._ _

__“Well, anyway. So, you’ve been OK, out hunting with Benny? It’s working out?”_ _

__Cas reached back to the days and weeks after Benny had been returned. Just as Dean was reorienting himself to human life, so the vampire was readjusting to life on the surface, and the ache for blood that was always with him. Dean had been in no position to help, and Sam was needed to stay at his brother's side. And as for Cas, the broken angel.... “As I tried to explain to you, I felt I needed some time on my own, Dean.”_ _

__“Well, maybe you were right. I can be an asshole, I guess.”_ _

__“Yes.”_ _

__Dean laughed. “Cas, that’s not how it works! I say I was a jerk, and then you say I wasn’t.”_ _

__Cas side-eyed Dean. “So, your apology was insincere?”_ _

__“It wasn’t insincere. That’s how human interaction works, Cas!” Then the side of Cas’s mouth twitched up. “Wait, you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you? Has Benny been teaching you how to be an asshole or something?”_ _

__“Perhaps.”_ _

__Dean was grinning. “You fucker! Look, for what it’s worth, Cas, I think you made the right decision. You’ve done good work on this case. I'm proud of you. And … you look good.” Cas glanced over in time to catch Dean giving him the once-over, his eyes slowly taking in Cas, drinking him in. “I mean it,” Dean muttered, almost as if he was talking to himself, tongue flicking over his lips. “You look … really good.”_ _

__The brakes squealed as Cas suddenly maneuvered the Continental around the turn off. “Uh, the turn is … easy to miss,” he hastily explained._ _

__“You could work on the driving, though,” said Dean._ _

__“You could hold off flirting while he’s trying to drive, sweet-cheeks,” whispered Pamela, who had now manifested in the back seat._ _

__“Would you stop doing that?” Dean told her._ _

__“Doing what?” she purred._ _

__Cas stared at the road, whispering a prayer of thanks for the interruption._ _

__“Appearing!” sputtered Dean._ _

__“I’m a ghost. Partly thanks to you, Winchester. Appearing is part of the job description.”_ _

__“You been eavesdropping on us?”_ _

__Pamela's ghost leaned back, crossing her arms. Cas glanced up into the rear view mirror, and saw the eyes staring at him. “Yeah. I think you two need to get very drunk.”_ _

__“Oh yeah?”_ _

__“And then some heavy petting. To break the tension.”_ _

__“Break the _what_?”_ _

__The Continental lurched again._ _

__“Cas! Driving!” Dean scolded._ _

__“Tunnel,” muttered Cas, whose cheeks had gotten very hot. “This is the way to the tunnel entrance.”_ _

__“You drive like an angel,” Dean told him._ _

__Cas finally pulled up beside two vehicles: he recognized the truck from the other day, and there was now a red Dodge Charge painted with thick, white racing stripes. As they exited the Lincoln, they could hear the wind blowing beneath the darkening sky. It was an eerie sound._ _

__Dean stood by the Charger, shaking his head. “What the hell, are we huntin' the Dukes of fucking Hazzard now?”_ _

__Cas immediately went to the rusty truck and tried the door. It was open, so he began prowling in the glove compartment._ _

__“Want me to take a look around for other spooks?” asked Pamela. Cas handed her the sunglasses, and she sashayed over to the tunnel entrance and disappeared inside._ _

__“Find anything?” Dean asked Cas._ _

__“The caves are quite extensive,” said Cas. “I was hoping to find some indication of which area they are currently exploring.” He pulled out a piece of paper, and unfolded a crudely drawn map._ _

__“Bingo,” said Dean, who was tucking a handgun into his waistband. Cas spread the map out on the truck's hood, pressing it down to keep it still in the stirring wind. His T shirt was thin, and he was kicking himself for not thinking to stop by the motel and grab a jacket._ _

__“The kid said they'd gone to the burial ground,” Dean was saying. “Where would that be on here?”_ _

__Cas traced a long finger over the map. “That would be this area.”_ _

__“We should make sure we're packing: sounds like the uncle is gonna be armed to the teeth-” Dean began, but then the wind gusted, and something dropped the ground, landing with a light crunch._ _

__Cas bent over to pick it up. It was a pair of Ray Bans. One of the lenses was gone._ _

__“Pamela,” said Dean. “Shit!”_ _

__Both men dashed to the cave opening. Dean followed Cas through the low entrance, and then they rushed down the narrow, slippery stone staircase._ _

__“See anything?” Dean whispered, though he strained to be heard against the rushing wind inside. Cas shook his head. “Could you … sense her?”_ _

__Cas nodded. “She's not around here.”_ _

__“Which way?”_ _

__Cas carefully unfolded the map again, which at least he'd thought to crumple up and bring along. It rustled crisply in the breeze. He pointed. Dean extracted his gun from his waistband and followed Cas through the howling and moaning in the caverns. There was a pool of shallow, slowly trickling water here, and they picked their way through it, taking care of the slippery ground underneath._ _

__Whoever had come here before had switched on the lights, so they were not in complete darkness, but there were many areas draped in shadow from the protruding cave formations. They walked for a while down through the tunnel, following the lights, the restless wind rushing by their ears, but there was no sign of Pamela, nor of the Teagues._ _

__And then … movement. It was just a flick in the corner of Cas's eye. They were now standing at a crossroads, where the tunnel forked into two branches, one high and one low._ _

__“See something?” Dean's lips were near his ear._ _

__Cas nodded. He stopped and stared, annoyed at his dulled, human senses. He pulled out the map once more and drew nearer to the closest light, studying it, Dean hanging over his shoulder. The two tunnels formed a loop. Putting a finger to his lips, he motioned for Dean to go one way, while he would go another._ _

__Dean signaled that he understood, and then crept off, up the higher pathway. Cas watched for a while as the hunter gracefully picked his way down the tunnel, gun at the ready, and wished he had thought to bring along a firearm._ _

__Cas walked down the other branch of the tunnel, keeping an eye on the shadows. The water was deeper here, and starting to flow faster, adding to the ambient noise. Who awaited him at the end: human or god?_ _

__He stumbled and nearly fell as his foot slipped into a hole in the rushing stream. He started. A white face and pair of sightless black sockets stared back at him._ _

__He stared back, holding his breath. A skull was resting at the side of the caved, nestled within the rock formations here. The lights were scarcer down here, so he dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone, cursing himself for running off without a flashlight. He illuminated the touchscreen, and scanned it around the walls. There, tucked into the nooks and crannies of this cavern, several human skeletons. So this was the burial grounds._ _

__One body was laid out, it appeared, with more care than the others. It was in a nook all its own, surrounded by ornaments. Cas drew closer. Scraps of leather clothing still clung to the body in places. His fingers traced over what appeared to be a seam._ _

__Inside-out. The corpse had been buried wearing an inside-out jersey._ _

__“Hello,” Cas muttered._ _

__And something more: a reflection moved through the water below him. He saw a painted face. Was it a spirit?_ _

__And then a clear sound: a rifle being cocked._ _

__Not a spirit._ _

__Cas froze, waiting for sound to give him a clue._ _

__There it was, a splash. To his back right, at about four o'clock. He calculated some more._ _

__And then he threw himself at Aaron Teague._ _

__A gunshot rang out. In an instant, several delicate formations, wrought over the many thousands of years, crumbled to dust, the powder raining down on the earthly remains of many tribesmen, some of it washing away in the flowing stream._ _

__More splashes as Dean charged in, gun pointed. Cas was on his knees, once again on top of the boy. He tossed away the shotgun and wrenched Cody up by his collar, bringing his head out of the water. The boy choked._ _

__“Sorry I'm late,” said Dean. “There's a fucking _waterfall_ the other way. Wasn’t on your map. I nearly went over.”_ _

__“It's all right. I have the situation in hand,” said Cas. He got to his feet, yanking Aaron up with him. The boy's face was smeared with white paint._ _

__“That's our restless spirit, huh?” asked Dean._ _

__“Your friend, Cody, saw you like this?” Cas asked him._ _

__“We just wanted to scare him off,” Aaron told them, spitting water. “He was being a pussy.”_ _

__Dean let his gun arm fall. “You mean this has all been Scooby Doo?”_ _

__“Scooby Doo?” asked Cas._ _

__“Metatron didn't like Saturday morning cartoons either, I take it?” sighed Dean. But then he tensed as the gun barrel prodded his neck._ _

__“Drop that weapon, you government asshole,” the armed man ordered._ _

__“You must be Josiah Teague,” sighed Dean._ _

__“I said drop the weapon, city boy,” Josiah repeated, prodding Dean with the weapon._ _

__“Great. We've gone from Scooby Doo to Deliverance in two minutes flat,” said Dean as he slowly set his weapon on the ground. Aaron wrested himself from Cas's grasp and waded over to grab it. “If they ask me to squeal like a pig, I'm done,” he added._ _

__“I _do_ know that reference,” Cas told him._ _

__“Great, Cas. That's helpful.” Dean turned his attention to the gunman. “So, let me guess: you killed your brother? And Hanniger? In a dispute over the caves,” Dean asked Josiah._ _

__“Of course not! It was the US government!”_ _

__Dean paused. Cas frowned. This was unexpected. “What?” Dean finally asked._ _

__Josiah leaned closer. Even in the dark, you could see the glint of madness in his eyes. “You used your laser death rays on them.”_ _

__Dean and Cas exchanged a glance. “OK. Scooby Doo to _Deliverance_ to _Austin Powers_.”_ _

__“I was thinking a better reference might be _They Live_ ,” opined Cas._ _

__“Oh, that was a good one!” Dean agreed. “Hey, you're getting good at this, Cas.”_ _

__“Thank you, Dean.”_ _

__“Look, Josiah,” said Dean, turning back to Teague. “We got back-up on their way. I'm not sure what your end game is here....”_ _

__“We're gonna put your asses down the waterfall. They ain't never gonna find you there. Not ever. This formation goes for miles.”_ _

__“Uncle Josiah...” Aaron started. He had partially lowered his gun. Or rather, Dean's gun._ _

__“What?” the uncle snapped. Dean glanced at Cas, who nodded. Dissension in the ranks. This might be useful._ _

__“If we kick them down the waterfall, won't that...?” the boy stumbled._ _

__“Kill us? Yes,” said Dean. “Making you a murderer? Yeah. So you'll spend the rest of your life locked up in a federal pen as some guy named Big Rocko's cellmate instead of guiding cave tours? Yeah.”_ _

__“Shut up,” barked Teague._ _

__“Look, Uncle-” Aaron started._ _

__“You gonna pussy out on me the way your friend did?” Teague demanded._ _

__“Why is having female characteristics necessarily an insult?” Cas wondered._ _

__“Get movin'!” barked, Teague, gaving Dean another shove with the rifle. Dean glared, but raised his hands and waded into the water next to Cas. As they walked along, the rushing of the waterfall became louder and louder._ _

__“Dean,” Cas whispered. “The wind.”_ _

__Dean halted. “Hey! The wind stopped,” he told Josiah. Aaron, who was dripping wet and shivering, looked around nervously._ _

__“So?” asked Josiah._ _

__“The cave was damaged when the boy's rifle went off,” Cas explained._ _

__“Think you got someone angry,” said Dean. “Or some _thing_.”_ _

__“Don't be an idiot!” Josiah snapped. “There ain't no such thing as vengeful Injun gods.”_ _

__“Wait! You believe in black helicopters, but not Native American spirits?” asked Dean._ _

__“Ain't no black helicopters neither. I told you, was government _laser beams!_ ”_ _

__“And what happened to our ghost?” Dean asked Cas._ _

__“I haven't seen Pamela since we've been down here,” Cas agreed._ _

__“Your _what_? Quit talkin' nonsense, you two.” Josiah nudged them again, and they began to approach the rushing waterfall. _ _

__Cas halted again. There it was, a white flicker in the corner of his eye. He looked back. Josiah and Aaron were both there._ _

__The water was flowing faster, and it was getting difficult to stand. Cas could see how Dean had nearly slipped. Josiah prodded them towards a dark, narrow gap in the rock wall: just big enough for a man to slip through. The water rushed out along a narrow waterfall. Cas peered down. There was nothing but darkness beyond._ _

___“Dean! Cas!”_ _ _

__Sam's shout echoed through the chambers._ _

__“Sammy!” Dean yelled. Josiah was momentarily distracted._ _

__Cas saw it again, just beyond the range of his vision._ _

__Dean leapt towards Josiah, probably thinking to disarm him, but instead Cas caught Dean and tackled him to the ground._ _

__There was a sizzle, a whiff of ozone, and the cave echoed with the sound of Josiah's shrieks of pain. Dean pulled up out of the water, cursing, just in time to see Josiah's burnt, eye-less corpse flame out and fall. The stink of charred flesh filled the chamber._ _

__The spirit stood above Josiah’s body, hand still outstretched. His face was painted white, upon which a bright, red handprint was splashed – a warrior._ _

__“Down!” Cas shouted, struggling to push Dean back down under the water._ _

__“Nooooo!” yelled Aaron. Heyoka extended a hand and part of the cave exploded. Aaron dodged the killing blow, but lost his footing, and slipped partway into the waterfall._ _

__“Get back, asshole!” yelled Pamela, who suddenly appeared, wearing the one-eyed sunglasses. She wrapped arms around the spirit in a headlock and they struggled._ _

__“Help!” screamed Aaron, who was now hanging at the lip of the waterfall. Dean struggled up and rushed to aid him just as Heyoka threw off Pamela's ghost. She slammed against the cave wall and disappeared, her sunglasses crunching onto the ground._ _

__Heyoka reached out towards Dean, who was still struggling to pull the boy out of the waterfall without going over himself. But this time Cas grabbed Heyoka and pulled him to the ground. It was like wrestling a thunderstorm. He felt power: an incredible power._ _

__“Don’t harm the boy,” he yelled at Heyoka. “It was an accident. He’s innocent.”_ _

__“No one is innocent,” the spirit barked._ _

__“We’re trying to keep them away from the sacred ground.”_ _

__“All must face my wrath.”_ _

__Cas struggled to manifest the last scrap of his grace. He slammed a hand onto Heyoka's forehead. And then, mouthing a prayer he knew no one would hear, he willed a smiting blow upon the god._ _

__Nothing happened._ _

__“You are made of lies,” Heyoka whispered._ _

__Dean was yelling at Cas, and he thought he head Sam’s voice calling from somewhere too. Heyoka threw him off. Cas fell back and Heyoka leapt to his feet. Gunshots rang out as Dean fired shot after shot at Heyoka._ _

__“Cas, get back!” Dean shouted._ _

__“I’m trying to reason with him!” Cas yelled._ _

__“Cas, there’s no crazy wisdom left, just the crazy!”_ _

__The god, unaffected by the bullets, charged at Dean. Desperate, Cas leapt upon him and managed to get a hand on his head again. He felt power, like an electrical current._ _

___Bizarro world_ , thought Cas._ _

___I'm doing this backwards._ _ _

__He relaxed, and instead of trying force the last of his grace energy into the spirit, let all of Heyoka’s power suddenly surge into him._ _

__There was a blinding light. Screams: it may have been Cas, he didn't know._ _

__And then darkness._ _

__

__“Dammit, Cas.”_ _

__Cas awoke, his head pounding. It took a moment for his surroundings to come into focus. He was lying in the motel room. Dean Winchester was sitting beside him on the bed, fretting._ _

__“Whatever you did, just…. Don’t do that again, OK?”_ _

__With some effort, Cas sat up, causing the room to sway. He looked down and noticed with great annoyance that his Metallica T-shirt was torn, as well as somewhat charred along the hem. Cursing, he slid off the bed and somewhat clumsily got to his feet and started to untangle himself from the shirt._ _

__“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Dean scolded. “You shouldn’t be up!”_ _

__“This was my favorite shirt,” said Cas._ _

__“Who gives a flying fuck about your shirt? Which was _my_ shirt, by the way.”_ _

__“I’m not an angel any more, Dean,” Cas threw back. “I have to take care of these things.”_ _

__“Cas, what the hell?”_ _

__Cas wrested out of his shirt and stared at it. “I’m human, that’s what the hell. Just … human.”_ _

__“That’s why you shouldn’t be wasting your power on shit like that Hey-You guy! You know what will happen.”_ _

__“I didn't use any power on him. I didn't have any power to use.”_ _

__That seemed to give Dean pause. “Oh. I'm sorry Cas.”_ _

__Cas balled up the shirt and tossed it at the bed. The room had stopped spinning. “Is- Is Pamela OK?”_ _

__“Yeah. Pam’s OK. And Sam and Benny are fine, though they took too goddam long buying a fucking rope. _And_ we saved the stupid kid. Though his Uncle Josiah is barbecue patties.”_ _

__“I remember. And Heyoka?”_ _

__“Dust. After you got through with him.”_ _

__“That’s too bad.”_ _

__“I think he was holed up in that cave too long.” Cas glowered, so Dean continued. “They're gonna deal with the remains though. Sam got in touch with a shaman. A real one.”_ _

__“That's good.”_ _

__Cas glanced over at Dean. His thumb was at his lips his eyes were tracing a slow line up and down Cas’s body. Once upon a time, Cas didn’t understand. But now he did._ _

__He turned to face Dean._ _

__“Sorry…. Cas, I was just- I mean, _we_ were just worried.”_ _

__Slowly, his eyes locked onto his face, Cas approached Dean. Dean didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, or where to look. “We don’t think….” Dean muttered._ _

__With a stride, Cas closed the distance between himself and Dean._ _

__“Cas-“_ _

__Cas raised a tentative hand, cupping Dean’s chin. Dean's light green eyes traced around the room, and then at last, finally fixed on Cas._ _

__He was too far gone to turn back. He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and pushed him back against the wall, and Cas was on him, tangling a hand through the short hair, kissing him deeply on the mouth. An electric current surged through him. For one brief, sweet moment, Castiel was filled with grace._ _

__Finally, he took a step back. Dean stayed pressed against the wall, staring at him, eyes wide as the sky. “This isn’t- Cas-“_ _

__“Yes. This _is_ what you want,” said Cas. “I don’t have enough grace left to lie any more. This is what _I_ want. I was too stupid to realize it. But there it is. I don’t know how much time I have. But I want to be with you. For every second I have left. That’s what I want.”_ _

__Dean, who evidently couldn’t decide where to focus, finally looked at the floor. “You’re not gonna die, Cas.”_ _

__“You don’t know that.”_ _

__“We’ll find a solution. You gotta believe me. Like we did with me. Like we did with the Mark.”_ _

__“And if we don’t?_ _

__“We will! And me.... I need … time.”_ _

__“I haven’t got time.”_ _

__The remark hung in the air for a beat._ _

__“Then I need….” Dean's expression changed at least a dozen times. Finally, he said, “I really need a drink.”_ _

__“A drink?”_ _

__“Yes. We need to get drunk. And then … break the tension.”_ _

__Cas tilted his head in puzzlement, and at that moment, Dean stepped forward, slid his hand behind Cas's neck, and kissed him for all he was worth. Cas felt his knees go week. The room, once again, was spinning._ _

__Dean pushed back. “Yeah. Tension breaker,” said Dean. “Definitely, tension breaker. Come on!” And then he was out the door._ _

__And then he was back in the door, pushing Cas back into the room. “But first get a damn shirt on. They’re not gonna serve you drinks without a shirt._ _

__Cas cracked a small smile. His bag of clean clothes was still sitting on the floor, so he crouched down and began to rummage through it, selecting and then discarding a number of garments._ _

__“What’s taking you so damn long, Heidi Klum? Just put on a fucking shirt!” ordered Dean, who got down on his knees beside Cas, grabbed a T-shirt from the pile and pulled it over Cas’s head, inside-out and backwards. He then pulled Cas to him and kissed him again. He pushed the angel to the floor and slid on top of him. Cas wrapped his arms and legs around Dean, who started kissing Cas’s neck and sliding a hand under Cas's waistband and then all sorts of things that really didn't involve getting Cas into a T-shirt._ _

__The key rattled in the lock and suddenly Benny was standing in the door._ _

__“Hey do you guys wanna-?” asked Sam, who was hovering over Benny’ shoulder._ _

__“Uh, no, I don’t think they wanna,” Benny told Sam, and both quickly retreated._ _

__

__Cas awoke in a sort of nest of clean clothes scattered on the floor, Dean wrapped around him, snoring and drooling._ _

__Careful not to disturb Dean, Cas untangled himself from Dean and his laundry, and picked his way to the bathroom, where he relieved himself._ _

__He was washing his hands when he spotted the sunglasses. He picked them up. One lens was gone._ _

__“Hey, Loverboy. You decent?”_ _

__Pamela was sitting cross-legged on the counter, shielding her eyes with one hand._ _

__Making no attempt to cover up, Cas leaned a hip against the counter and twirled the sunglasses in his hand. “No. Definitely not.”_ _

__Pamela put down her hand and grinned wide. “I need new glasses. And I think Dean’s brother needs a new brain.”_ _

__“You are well?”_ _

__“As well as a dead person can be I guess. Heyoka kept popping me back to heaven.”_ _

__“Really?” Cas stopped twirling the sunglasses and raised an eyebrow._ _

__“Yeah, that was Ash’s reaction too. He’s wondering if guys like that can open up some sort of gateway.”_ _

__“Benny?”_ _

__Pamela nodded, and actually looked serious for a moment. “But we need to fix you too, kiddo.”_ _

__Cas leaned back and began twirling the sunglasses again. “I don’t feel as if I need to be fixed.”_ _

__“Oh, Dean Winchester is that good?”_ _

__Cas arched an eyebrow, and she broke into laughter. “Well, try and stay outta trouble. Catch you later.” And then she dematerialized._ _

__Cas stood there for a moment, holding the sunglasses. He stared at them. And then, almost experimentally, tapped them with one finger._ _

__The missing lens reappeared._ _

__He put on the sunglasses and, after admiring himself in the mirror for a brief moment, strode out of the bathroom, whistling a tune from the Peer Gynt Suite._ _


End file.
